And at the Very Least
by theilluminantcastle
Summary: "Maybe this is what he deserves. To find someone that can actually give him everything I thought I could give him, and everything I can't." - A little bit of an AU, set sometime between The Limey & Headhunters.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"I was going to tell him you know, had it all figured out." Her voice is muffled, her head in her hands. "I was going to ask him over, have dinner and tell him everything; that I remembered, that I was sorry and that I felt the same. But I just – I was too late. I'm too late and he left."

She's never been the kind of woman to just air out her self-pity, but in the last couple of months, the routine sessions have helped her voice everything she's thinking – everything she couldn't say to the people that were meant to hear it. Burke sits there patiently as always, waiting for her to finish her train of thought before pitching a question that always gets the train rolling again.

"You said he's still showing up, at the Precinct."

"Yes but it's not really _him_. It's the old Castle – the one that would flaunt his fame and charm the wits out of everything with a heartbeat. The Castle that shows up isn't the one I fell in love with." And it hurts knowing that he's back to his old ways, back to the man she could never see herself with. She's had so many scenarios go through her head of _how _and _why_ he's like this, but she's too terrified to even acknowledge that any of those scenarios could be true.

"But he's still there, with you?"

"I-Yeah – but that's not the point, it's different now and I don't know what to do." She lifts her head from her hands and avoids Burke's eyes, turning instead to face the window. She hates it. Hates that it feels like she's taken 6 steps back in the progress she worked so hard to reach. That with this, she's reminding that she's still broken, that she took too long to attempt to fix herself and missed her chance.

"Have you tried talking to him about this?"

"Ofcourse I have, but he brushes me off every time I pull him aside to talk. Can't even bare to be in the same room alone with me for me to even get a normal conversation going."

"And why do you think that is?"

"I don't – I don't know." Her voice falters for a moment, slowly breathes out to find the courage to voice a thought she wholly resents herself for having. "Maybe he's had enough, waited too long and I'm not enough anymore. Maybe he's finally seen how broken I am and he's getting over me."

For a second, Burke's eyes flash with concern. He's never seen her this resigned – not even after the case with the sniper and her PTSD had been triggered and caused her to spiral. No, what he sees is a woman whose heart is broken. More so than when a bullet had been lodged in it.

"But what about you Kate? Are you going to let him get over you without him knowing the truth?"

"God Burke, I don't want him to, God no. I just – maybe this is what he deserves. To find someone that can actually give him everything I thought I could give him and everything I can't."

* * *

He pulls up to the curb and the roar of the cherry red car quiets as he pulls out the keys. He's parked in front of a familiar black Harley Soft-tail, but thinks nothing of it as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. It's not until he sees her walk out of an old but classic looking building that he realises it's hers. He lets out a sigh, instantly regretting the place he'd chosen to park.

He looks up but sees that her head is still down as she walks out, fishing for her keys from her leather jacket. When she finally looks up, she spots him immediately. Sees the instant tensing of his broad shoulders and the cold stare of his eyes.

"Beckett." He nods out of courtesy but not really looking into her eyes, instead looking towards the grey of the wall behind her, next to her head and still in his line of vision. "Don't think I've ever seen you around this area Beckett, what're you doing here?"

"Hey Castle." She smiles softly, but he can see the tiredness in her eyes and her body. "Just finished my appointment, so I was gonna get some groceries and head home. What about you Castle?"

"I'm meeting someone for breakfast. Thought the café a few shops down looked cute."

"Ahh." She nods, trying to swallow down the sudden torrent of emotions that have resurfaced after her session with Burke. She's normally composed by now – at the bottom of the steps of the building, always manages to get herself in order after her appointment by the time she gets to the streets and the outside world. But not today. Not with him standing there by his Ferrari and dressed for a breakfast date. "With umm, what's her name – Jacinda?"

"Yeah," He gives her one of his signature 'Richard Castle world famous author' smiles and continues, "that's the one."

"Oh, uhh – well if you're taking her to The Pulse at the corner, they make a mean mushroom and ricotta omelette. I've had it once or twice." It's now that she's decided that if he's trying to get over her, then she should at least be civil about it – it's the least she can do for him.

"Oh yeah, thanks, I might actually take your advice then." She smiles then, a small exhale as she nods at him. Yeah. She can do this – she can at least be his friend if she can't have him as anything more.

"Well look Castle, I don't want to make you late or keep her waiting, so-" She makes her way to her motorcycle, reaching out for her helmet as something clicks in his head, as he figures that she's been in the area often to know what's good at the little café down the road.

"Wait – you said you had an appointment here?"

"Uh, yeah. A pretty regular one I guess – nothing special." Her head tilts towards the building she'd walked out of, motioning to the plaque on the wall and he's finally curious enough to read the letters on the wall.

_Dr. Carter Burke.  
__Psychologist._

"I didn't know you were seeing a therapist." He's taken a couple of steps towards her, momentarily forgetting the fact that he's angry with her, that she lied to him and that he's hurting. For now, he's just concerned. She looks at her feet for a moment, fingers playing with the edge of her helmet, finally looking up and into his eyes.

"Yeah, have been ever since the shooting. Every Saturday at 9:30 am."

"I-Wow. I thought everything was okay, I mean aside from the sniper case, I thought you were fine."

"I was, I mean I am. But I still show up. Guess there's still a few things I'm trying to deal with in terms of my shooting and everything that happened that day. It's uhh – still a little difficult but I just wanted to put in the work and not make any excuses for myself."

He's scolding himself now, angry at himself for never noticing. _Every Saturday_ she'd said. He knows they don't really socialise on the weekend, him always spending time with Alexis or writing, and assuming that she had her own errands to run. But for the last year, how could he not see it?

"Deal with your shooting? I thought-"

"Rick!" It's another voice a small distance down the road that interrupts him, the blonde woman waving at him as she begins to walk up towards him. He waves back, but turns to Beckett because he needs to know more. Wants to know more about why she's here and never said a word about it. But when he turns back, she's straddled on her motorcycle with her helmet on her head but her visor up.

"I'll see you at work Castle." Before he can protest, she flicks her visor down and turns the handlebars of her motorbike, letting it roar to life, indicating out and riding away from the kerb. He's still watching her speed off down the road when a hand wraps around his elbow.

"Who was that Rick?"

He's still standing there stunned, completely lost as to _what on earth just happened_ and trying to absorb the snippet of information she'd just passed him.

She's been going to therapy. To deal with her shooting. The shooting she'd told him she couldn't remember. The memory she'd lied about for a year. _A year_ he tells himself. A year in which she'd spent _not _telling him about it, about any of it – the memory or the therapy. And he doesn't know anymore; has no idea what to do with this knowledge or if it changes anything at all. If it changes the fact that he's still hurt and that she still doesn't feel that same. _It doesn't_ he thinks to himself, _she still remembers and she still lied about it._

And then he's being pulled by the hand up the street again, alongside a blonde woman who's obviously set on having breakfast and smiling brightly at him as she updates him on her latest flight and the mishap that one of the passengers had had with a bag of almonds and a can of coke.

Yeah – it doesn't change a damn thing.

* * *

**A/N: So it's been a while since I've actually written anything at all, but in order to avoid an assignment due later today, I was itching to get this out. I know it's been done so many times but I'm so very into this arc. It'll be a short fic with a few chapters – figured I'd start small. Any advice would be greatly appreciated because like I said, totally rusty at this whole thing.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The place he's chosen is surprisingly spacey for a hip café. He might be a little older but he's picked up on the sudden increase of brunch café's that have opened up around the city and he's not complaining. They're a little more organic than the other places that have been around, and whether he likes to admit it or not, at his age the benefits of it being healthy aren't too bad either. The room is scattered with small knick-knacks and antiques, but it's illuminated with warm coloured lightbulbs that are hung at various lengths from the ceiling. As they take a seat and look down at the menu, he's not surprised at all that a majority of the list contains some sort of poached egg, seed or grain of the week, so he knows at least the food will be a safe bet.

Half an hour into their date and she's telling him about the ridiculous things she's had to witness people do on a plane and he's really trying to listen – he really is - nodding along with the occasional comment when necessary, but there's a large part of his mind that's still hovering over the subject he refuses to acknowledge. He won't let her in his head here, he's _trying to move on _and moving on from her definitely does not involve _her_.

He's got it all worked out in his head: to really make an effort with the lady sitting across from him and actually invest in a relationship he's certain to get something back with. Jacinda's actually a nice and intelligent person, and despite the way he'd made her look at the precinct a few days ago, she's not as flighty as she looks, pun intended. She's down to earth and actually a little funny, so yes he can do this. He can flip that switch and forget that he'd been strung along for four years because he was so stupidly in love. For once, he's going to be selfish and do something for himself, he's going to move on because he has to. He won't let himself fathom the darkness he'd be swallowed into if he didn't try to move on from her and he doesn't intend to with his plan.

He drops her off an hour and a half later with a quick kiss on her lips and a smile, telling her he'll call to arrange another date. He's proud of himself, the way he's handling it, confident that he's not using her at all, that he's actually succeeding in moving on. And so he strolls through the front door of his loft and whistling a tune with his smiling lips, mulling over the fact that he's making progress and he's getting somewhere.

"Richard darling, what's gotten into you?" Martha's standing in the kitchen, stirring a cup of what he hopes is coffee with an eyebrow raised.

"Nothing, at all – just had a good morning, that's all."

"Ah yes, with that flight attendant – Jacinda?"

"Yup." The p pops at the end of the word and she sighs, placing the spoon in the sink behind her and walks up to him. He knows what she's going to say and shakes his head, his hand in the air motioning for her to not go there.

"Mother, please."

"Richard, I just think you're going about this the wrong way. I mean, are you sure this Jacinda is what you really need right now? I mean, I know you're trying to get over Katherine, but don't you think-"

"Mother, I _am _getting over Beckett. I saw her this morning and managed to get through my date with Jacinda just fine." He smiles at her, proud at himself for doing so.

"You saw her this morning? Was there a murder?" They're both standing at next to his front door, so he walks to the couch and sits, arms spread out across the top of cushions.

"Uhh nope – she was just leaving her appointment actually. She's been in therapy for a whole year and failed to mention that too." He huffs the end of the sentence, the sting of the whole situation slowly coming back.

"Therapy? Oh wow, that's a big commitment coming from Katherine don't you think?" Martha takes a seat beside her son, her hands in her lap.

"I don't know, I guess so, but that doesn't really change anything."

"Doesn't it? You and I both know that Katherine is a strong woman who deals with things her own way. But I'm going to be honest with you Richard, therapy was not a place I saw her volunteering herself for, at least not for this long."

"Guess you have a point, but I'm not sure what you're getting at mother – I mean I'm happy that she chose to go to therapy for her PTSD, but I thought with everything we've been through, she could've at least told me. I thought I was her partner." He runs his a hand through his hair, loosening up the small amount of wax he'd combed through it this morning.

"Oh darling, therapy isn't something you just bring up half way through a murder case."

"No I get it, but she's had plenty of opportunities in between cases, so your point is mute there mother."

"Richard please, you've got to understand that for some, it's private. It's a battle you've got to fight for yourself and deal with your own demons, whether someone knows about it or not."* Martha's eyes remain on her son, but she reaches out and places her hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Katherine was shot, and maybe she remembers it and lied about it – which by the way, is not something I'm happy about on your part – but from where I'm standing, at least she's trying."

"Trying to what?"

"Trying to fix everything the bullet in her heart broke."

* * *

She gets a call early the next morning and hesitates to call him out, not sure if he'll answer anyway, so she compromises; shoots him a short text to let him know that a body dropped and the address. When she gets to the scene, Castle is waiting by the sidewalk, two coffees in hand and a smile on his face. She gasps at the normalcy of it, the fact that he's _here_ and had actually stopped to get her a cup of coffee.

"Hey Castle, didn't think you'd make it." She smiles as she takes the cup from him and starts to walk towards the crime scene.

"Where else would I be?" Given his behaviour the last few weeks, he knows she could give him an answer, but she doesn't. Huffs a small laugh and takes a sip of her coffee. He'd spent the weekend struggling; stuck between being stubborn and telling himself that for once, this was about him and what he wanted, and mulling over the conversation he'd had with his mother. Her words had hit him a little harder than he would've liked them to, a little deeper than he needed them to.

By the time he'd seen Beckett's text, he had adjusted his plan, changed it to at least give Beckett some sort of normalcy but not reverting back to the lost puppy he'd been before. Compromise he'd told himself – a middle ground to the emotional torment he'd been through and what he's still willing to give her. But in spite of all this, he'd still like to know – still wants to at least be her friend through whatever it is that she needs to deal with. And so he asks.

"Beckett, about Saturday and what you said-"

"Castle, we'll talk about it later okay? I promise – just, not now, but we'll talk." She'd been expecting it, knew that his inner-writer would ask and that Castle himself would want to know. "Just not at the crime scene."

"Yeah, okay. Later." He takes it, understands that maybe this isn't the best place to have such a conversation, and so he lets her lead the way, under the tape and towards the body.

* * *

As straightforward as the case is, they've spent the whole day going through the meticulous elements of the case, Beckett filling in her paperwork and Castle sitting beside her desk organising everything they'd taken off the board. But between chasing leads, questioning suspects and theorising, their conversation has taken a backseat to the murder. It's a quarter to five and Beckett hasn't forgotten what she promised Castle, so she stands up and heads towards the break room for a cup of coffee, hoping he'll follow at least this once.

"Beckett, it's later."

He doesn't mean to sound so blunt – so forceful with the words, but the anticipation for this moment has left him anxious all day and he just needs to know, he _deserves_ to know.

"I know, Castle."

Her voice is soft, hands trembling a little as she places a mug on the coffee machine and presses a button to get the espresso running. He waits her out, even though he'd promised himself to not wait for her anymore or at all, but just this once, knows that he can wait her out if she's willing to give him something. And she is, she's willing to give him everything he wants to know.

"At first the sessions were about the aftereffects of the shooting; the PTSD and the fact that I couldn't breathe when a door shut or a car honked or any loud noise for that matter. And I thought I had it under control after a while, but then the sniper case came up and I was back to square one. There are still glimpses of the PTSD here and there, but it's better now. Dr. Burke suggested a lot of things that helped with the panic attacks and the paranoia and I'm okay now, feel a little more like myself I guess."

"But you're still going to the sessions?" His voice is low, doesn't want to stop the train of thought that has her spilling so much to him, and for that at least, he's grateful – but she hasn't said anything about _really _remembering the day of her shooting, so his writer's mouth had naturally led him to ask the question.

"Yeah, I am. You remember that wall I was telling you about? I keep going because of that – because I just needed to take that wall down on my own, just try to really feel like myself again and to just be a better than who I was before and after I was shot."

"And do you remember? The day you were shot?" Of course he knows the answer, but she doesn't know this and so she's terrified. She turns to face him and really look him in the eyes, the coffee on the machine long forgotten because she's about to let her secret free and judging by the way he's been acting the last couple of weeks, she has no idea how he's going to react.

"Yeah, I've remembered ever since I woke up in the hospital." But he doesn't react – just nods his head and keeps his mouth shut for once and it knocks her off, surprises her that she's not really sure where this whole conversation is going but she continues. "Look Rick, I know I said I didn't remember but I do, and I'm sorry for not telling you, for lying to you about it. I promise I was going to tell you – when I felt like I didn't need to go to Dr. Burke's sessions so frequently anymore, but I guess it's taken a lot longer to get to that point than I'd thought."

The elevator dings in the background, neither really caring or taking note of it, so she continues, hoping to get everything she needs to say without breaking apart in the middle of the Precinct.

"But you deserve to know that I'm _so_ sorry for lying to you about the shooting, even if that's not enough. I know I'm too late and that you're not waiting for me anymore and I don't fault you for that, the blame is really on me here, but I just, yeah - I really am sorry, Rick. I'm just glad that you're happy, even if it's with someone else." For the most part, it kills her inside that he's with someone else, because she actually does want every part of him and she's been selfish for expecting him to wait all these years and she knows it. So for that very reason, there is a tiny part of her that knows what she's saying isn't a complete lie – that he deserves the happiness he's found, even if that's not with her.

"Wait, Beckett – that's not what you - wait, what?"

Castle is, for lack of a better world, stunned. _No_, this was not what he was expecting when he'd imagined this conversation in his head. He'd wanted the truth from her yes, but he'd expected her to let him down gently, tell him that she didn't feel the same, to stop waiting because she didn't want to be with him. But that's not what she'd said _at all_. His mind isn't working fast enough, hasn't found the words to respond because he was _so not_ prepared for what she'd said.

"Rick, are you ready to go?" The voice spills into the break room like ice water and he closes his eyes and curses every single higher power on earth for the fact that neither of them knows how to close a damn door, and that Jacinda had to turn up at the worst possible moment ever. He's turning back to look at Jacinda and is about to ask for a minute, but Beckett takes the other woman's appearance as her cue and starts to head towards the door behind her.

"Have a good night Castle, I'll let you know when the next body drops."

"I, uhh, yeah okay, when the next body drops, sure." It's the only thing he's able to register a response for, and even if he would rather them clear up this monstrosity of a disaster now, an arm has already curled around his waist and Beckett has already left the room.

As he rides down the elevator with Jacinda in tow, he's still reeling. Still processing everything she'd said and re-running every word to make sure he's heard her correctly. He wants to think about the fact that he's moving on – that he's promised himself to focus on the woman beside him and to not be hopelessly in love with Beckett and go running back to her even if she'd given him even a look or touch of interest.

But today she'd given him so much more than that and all he _can_ think about is what she'd said. He's got no idea what to do anymore, but what he does know is that he really just needs to sit down and close his eyes and just pause everything going on in his life for about a week, because she'd admitted she was too late and that it was okay, that he was happy - _even if it was with someone else_.

Well shit.

* * *

**A/N: First off – I'm so stunned with the response I've gotten and the fact that so many people have so many different takes to this arc and the way it should be handled and what they think Beckett or Castle would do. I would honestly love to go through each message and reply, but time's a little crazy on my end, so thank you to everyone that did!**

**I know some of you would really like for it to be Beckett actually fighting for Castle and being the one to run after him (or vice versa), and eventually she will in her own way, but I'm working a lot with the fact that they don't properly communicate at all and that Beckett's just trying to salvage what she thinks she has left with Castle – and you'll see this the next chapter so don't fear! **

**G. **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

She softly clicks the door closed behind her and drops her keys into the bowl on her right. Her gun and badge are next, safely tucked inside a drawer, followed by her mother's ring and father's watch. Her apartment is still dark, but Beckett only moves to switch on a dim lamp on the coffee table beside the couch and finally exhales. She stands behind her couch, hands gripping the backrest with her head bowed. Breathe in, breathe out.

It's all she can manage to do, can't fathom to eat or drink, her body filled with a heavy, gut-wrenching feeling of loss. She knows she's the one that put it there, let her fear culminate into something she hasn't felt in years – not since her mother died in an alleyway and set her straight on a path of vengeance and of loneliness.

There's a small knock at the door that breaks her out of her dark haze, and she's hesitant to even acknowledge it. She'd made no plans tonight, knew that she would want to be alone after a day like today.

"Kate, open the door, it's me."

Beckett sighs in relief and heads to open the door, smiling softly as she greets the person on the other side.

"Hey Lanie, come in." She swings the door open wider to let Lanie walk in and sees that her friend has bought one of her more favoured bottles of wine.

"Javi told me that you and Castle were talking in the breakroom before blondie showed up, so I figured you could use the girl talk." She goes to place the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter and opens a drawer she knows holds the corkscrew. They've done this enough to know where the necessities for girl talk lie in each other's kitchens, so Beckett knows to grab two glasses from the cupboard and follow Lanie to the couch. "So, do you want to talk about it?"

In all honesty, Beckett has no idea if she wants to talk about it, if there is anything to talk about at all. But she decides it's best to share it with someone because yes, she could really use a friend right now.

"I told him that I remembered about the shooting and everything that happened when I was shot." She starts off slowly, swirling the wine in her cup, not daring to look up as she mutters the words to Lanie. "We bumped into each other on the weekend just after I finish my session with Dr. Burke and he was heading out to a breakfast date with… her."

Lanie stays quiet, knows that any questions she has should be saved for the end, after Kate has let everything out. As talkative as the medical examiner is, she is a good friend – and a patient one at that. She spends her day chatting – but not overly so – to people who can't reply and can only, in a manner of speaking, listen. So yeah, she knows staying quiet helps.

"So he asked about it today when we got to the scene and I didn't get to talk to him until the afternoon. And when we did get to talking, I just told him the truth – why I lied and why I didn't tell him about therapy and that I was sorry." She shrugs, moves the wine glass towards her lips and pauses, before taking a large mouthful of wine.

"Why would you be sorry about lying to him? I mean I know he tried to take a bullet for you and that he deserves to know, but is there something else?" Beckett closes her eyes and scrunches her nose, moving her thumb and index finger to rest on either side of the bridge of her nose.

"After he knocked me to the ground, he… he told me he loved me." There's a sharp intake of air from Lanie, and Kate continues to stare at the shallowing wine glass.

"Oh, Kate. Sweetie, the man tells you he loves you and you don't tell him you remember?"

"I know, I know Lanie, I screwed that up – I screwed all of it up. I just, I thought I was doing the right thing for everyone at the time you know, and now - now he's gone."

"Well what did he say when you told him the truth?" Beckett opens her mouth and closes it again, hadn't really thought about it because he hadn't responded had he?

"Actually, he didn't really say anything, just a few cluttered words. I don't know Lanie, he probably just wanted to clarify a few things about my going to therapy but Jacinda walked in and whisked him off to dinner before he could ask I guess. Probably wasn't anything overly important, it doesn't matter now anyway."

Beckett reaches forward to refill Lanie's glass, before settling back into the couch and a comfortable silence. They both sit like that for a while, both sipping and mulling over the conversation, Beckett's head resting on the palm of her hand on the edge of the couch, before Lanie speaks up.

"Well did you at least tell him how you feel at any point in this conversation?" Beckett jerks at the question, a little dazed out in the silence before recollecting herself.

"I, uh told him I was happy for him that he'd found someone else?"

"That is not what I meant Kate."

"I know, I just - no?"

"What? Girl, I thought we talked about this, why don't you just tell the man you love him before it's too late?"

"Because I think it's already too late Lanie. I mean, he's found someone else to be with, and who am I to stand in the way of that?"

"You're his partner Kate, you've been with him for four goddamn years – there's no way this air hostess holds a candle next to you."

"God Lanie, you don't think I know that? You don't think I really do want to fight for him? To be doing more than just wallowing in the fact that I've messed up something that could've been the greatest thing in my life?" Her wine glass is on the table now, both hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt in her lap. "I can't be that woman to him Lanie – I can't be the one who suddenly wants to be with him just because he's found someone else and because I'd end up alone. I've been selfish enough, he deserves so much more than that."

"Oh Kate." Lanie reaches across the couch to hold Kate's hands before continuing. "Do you really believe that? That he would really not care and just walk away even if he found out how you felt? Because the guy _loves_ you Kate and that doesn't count for nothing."

"I know, I just – I need him in my life Lanie, as more than just my best friend or not, I need him _here_. And if I get in the way of whatever relationship he's in now, he's going to hate me and he's going to leave." She can feel her eyes watering, the wall of tears threatening to fall as she continues to look down to her lap and their hands.

"Sweetie he could never hate you. He loves you – and just because that boy is doing a horrible job of showing you that now by parading some blondie in your face, there's no way he's just forgotten that and moved on." There's a silence between them, a few tears sliding down Kate's cheek as she processes the whole situation. "Just think about it okay? You don't have to go running to him now – but just this once, risk it Kate. Tell him how you feel and who knows, maybe he still wants to be with you. And if he doesn't, then we come back here, drink a lot of wine and we go from there okay? You deserve a shot at whatever it is that you two have just as much as he does."

The next few words come as a whisper, Lanie barely catching them as Beckett speaks.

"And what if he doesn't want it anymore Lanie? I want to tell him that I love him but I'm terrified I've already lost him."

* * *

As he walks through the door, he spots his daughter and mother sitting on the couch, chatting quietly, each with a mug in their hands.

"Good evening ladies, how are we all tonight?" He flashes them a smile before taking a seat across from the couch.

"Hey dad, you're home early – how was dinner?" Alexis asks, tracing the rim of the mug with her index finger.

"Dinner was fine, enjoyable."

"Ahh - With Jacinda?" She waits for him to nod before continuing. "So you've been seeing her for a couple of weeks now, is it serious?"

"I'm not sure, we're just keeping things casual I guess, but I like her, she's what I need right now."

"Oh, okay." Alexis pauses, cautious before asking the next question. "I know this is a bit forward dad, but what about Beckett? I thought you two were… I don't know actually, but yeah, what about her?"

"Well what about her? We're not together or never have been, so there's nothing really to tell."

"I feel like there's something more to this, and Grams has refused to tell me anything so I figured I would just ask you." She places the mug down on the coffee table and faces her father. "What happened between you and Beckett?"

Castle sighs, running a couple of fingers through his hair. His mother surprisingly, sits there silently, watching the conversation in front of her.

"When she was shot, I told her I loved her, and when I asked her about it, she said she didn't remember. But apparently she has – for past year, so I'm just trying to move on because she clearly doesn't feel the same way." He hates to say the words out loud again, the truth of it all still stinging as much as he pushes it down.

"Oh Dad. She really told you she didn't feel the same way? After all these years?"

"Look Alexis, it's complicated okay?"

"Well then un-complicate it for me dad, tell me what on earth is going on because I'm worried about you right now." He looks up at her then, sadness in his eyes. He's never wanted for his love life to have an effect on Alexis, not until he was certain the other person could be trusted with her, but whether he's wanted it to or not, it has.

"That goes for me too Richard, you know how I feel about this whole debacle, but we're both worried about you." It's the first time Martha has spoken up, both ladies being patient as they wait for him to gather his thoughts. He's trying to figure out what to tell him, to give them a polished version of events or the full story. The writer in him decides to tell them everything because he has absolutely _no idea_ what he's doing, and god, he could really use some help right now.

So he tells them about their conversation in the break room, about the therapy and the shooting. Despite Martha already knowing, he tells them about how he had found out about her secret and the way it had hurt, and explained why he'd decided to make the choices he'd made since then. And as he recounts the situation, he can't help but remember the words she'd said in the break room, in such a soft voice and with such resignation that he has no idea what to do with the words. As if the words were a ball she'd thrown in his court and all he can do is stare at it as it rolls back and forth in his mind.

When he's finished, he feels lighter and a little less burdened by everything he's kept inside to deal with – somewhat worried that he's unloaded all his issues onto his family, but relieved that they now know. After a moment's silence, Alexis is the first to speak up.

"Dad, you said she told you that even if it wasn't with her, she was glad you were happy?"

"Yeah?" It's the question he's been tackling with all evening; the ride from the precinct to the restaurant, all throughout dinner and on his way home. As hard as he'd tried to supress the conversation with Beckett and focus on _anything_ else, his mind wouldn't let it go – not until he could figure out what the hell she really meant. He wants to believe himself – the fact that he could read her subtext, but doesn't want to be right – doesn't want to fall into every hopeful possibility of the meaning behind her words.

"Dad I know I'm still young, but that sounds like… it sounds like she wishes you could be happy with her."

"Alexis, I don't-"

"Richard dear, I think she's right." He sighs then, hating the fact that they could be right – that they are _probably_ _right_. And he wants to be happy about it – he wants to jump with joy, but he can't because his head and his heart is _so goddamn messed up_.

"And if Alexis is right, what do I do then? I can't just go running back to her mother, it still hurts and I'm with Jacinda and it's just so confusing I don't know what to do." He puts his head in his hands, closing his eyes and slowly breathes out. Alexis moves then, stands up off the couch and moves towards her father, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Dad, I know I can't tell you what to do, or who to date, but I think your… relationship with Jacinda, as nice as I'm sure she is, is something that can be fixed – make this whole situation less complicating for you, at least for right now." He huffs out a breath and turns to look at her, brushing a few fallen strands away from her face.

"When did you get oh so wise, daughter?" He smiles at her, because he knows she's right. Even if the whole situation with Beckett doesn't go a certain way, he could do without the extra relationship he's put himself in, even if he had enjoyed her company.

"Probably somewhere between second and third grade." She quips back, lightening the mood of the room – something they're all thankful for, but there's still something he needs to figure out.

"But what do I do about Beckett? I mean, whatever she's said to me or hasn't said to me doesn't automatically fix everything. She still lied and kept it a secret and I'm not sure if I can forgive her for that, but I can't just leave – that's not… that's not what I want." It's then that Martha reaches forward to place a hand on his knee with a knowing, yet concerned look in her eye.

"I know darling, but forgiving her is really and only up to you Richard, because let's all be very real here – whether we like it or not, we all have our own secrets don't we?"

And his face falls then, and with it, his heart dropping straight to his stomach. Because for just as long, he had most definitely, been harbouring his own.

* * *

**A/N: Once again, a massive thank you to everyone who has read it this far – I so very appreciate the support and the input that many of you guys have with the story. **

**Personally I'm not 100% happy with the way this chapter turned out, but hopefully it clears up a couple of issues with both Beckett and Castle. Hope everyone's had a safe Easter, the next chapter shouldn't be too far away!**

**G. **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

He knows he's meant to wait until she calls, because he's it's what he does – he waits. Except this time he's waiting on the sidewalk, in front of the building he'd parked in front of last week, waiting for her to come out of her appointment. She said she'd call – but she hadn't. But he will give her the benefit of the fact that she said she would call when a body had dropped – and in the two days she'd had off followed by two days on call, _no bodies_, not a one, had dropped. He's a patient man, but with the conversation he'd had with his family constantly on he's mind, he is beyond being patient. He needs to tell her – because it's what's best, and because whatever happens after that is up to her – he's not pushing and he's not pulling anymore, he's just going to be honest.

At 10:30 on the dot, he hears the door swing open and he turns around to see her stepping out, a hood over her head, sunglasses in her hand. He takes a few steps forward, just enough for her to see him and recognise his presence.

"Castle?" Her voice is softer than what he's used to and her eyes are furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I uhh- I know you had your session today and I was – I thought um -" He really does have a speech, a lot of things to say but even as a writer, getting started is apparently just as hard. "Can we talk?"

She opens her mouth and shuts it, unsure of what to say.

"Sure… Did you want a cup of coffee or something?" He steps a little closer and shakes his head in response.

"Actually, do you mind if we go back to the loft? I think it might be better if we talk there."

"Castle, I – the loft is - " She has no idea what her sentence actually is, because there's nothing wrong with the loft, but with the state of their… relationship, going back to his place doesn't sound smart at all.

"Please Kate, there's something I need to tell you." His voice is softer then, just above a whisper and it scares her.

"Rick, is everything okay?" She places her hand on his arm, but pulls it away when she feels him slightly tense at the touch.

"I don't know." His eyes are glued to the ground, not daring to let her see the fear in his eyes.

"Okay, yeah - Castle, we'll head back to the loft and talk. I'll follow your lead?" He looks up then, slightly confused - because he _never _leads – before he notices her walk towards her bike a little further down the road. _Oh right._ He'd forgotten about that part – he'd driven himself here in a car and forgot that he had witnessed her speed off on a bike last week.

"Yeah, sure thing."

* * *

The loft is quiet when they walk through the door, Alexis and Martha having made themselves scarce; Alexis on a study date with her friends and his mother, well – he wasn't quite sure. He had asked if he could have the house to himself for the day, and both women had understood what that meant without any more being said.

He leads her into the office before shutting the door and turning around to face her. The air is thick around them, filled with fears of two completely different kinds, because she has no idea what is going on and he does, but she starts off first.

"So what did you want to talk about Castle?" He takes a deep breath then and prepares to explain everything he's kept from her.

"It's about your mother's case and the shooting."

"Oh." She breathes on a sigh of relief but he tilts his head, having expected a much more animated reaction from her. "Oh, Castle, if you had more questions about my therapy you could've just told me. Had me worried for a bit there."

"No Kate it's not-" He _wishes_ it were that simple, because he does have those questions, but he can't get there without telling her and his courage is disappearing, and fast. So he decides that he won't talk, not just yet, instead picking up the remote from his desk and turning the screen on. Her picture appears first in the centre, followed by familiar faces and boxes of text surrounding her. There's an audible gasp from her lips as she takes a step back to look at the murder board – _his_ murder board.

"Castle, what – what the hell is this?" He rubs the back of his neck to stall a moment before answering.

"Before he died, Montgomery sent a package to someone he trusted that contained information that would damage whoever was behind all this, including your mother's murder. But the package didn't arrive until after your shooting. The person he sent it to, he struck a deal with that dragon." He looked up to see her face – mouth open and completely still, but he continued. "In order for the target to be taken off your back and to stop whomever was after you from returning, you had to stop investigating the case."

"How- how do you know all this Castle, are you apart of this?" She's stepping further away from him now, her calves bumping into the couch behind her as she looks at him with agony in her eyes.

"Not in the way you're thinking Kate."

"Then enlighten me." The words slip through her teeth, mouth barely moving.

"For the deal to work, there needed to be someone who would make sure you weren't investigating the case, that you had actually stopped going after the person behind all this."

"And so for a whole year, you were that person keeping me from investigating?"

"Yeah." He exhales the words, readying himself for what he knows is about to come. Beckett is pacing across his office; he can see the wheels spinning in her head, processing everything he's told her before she stops abruptly and looks him in the eyes.

"Why now, Castle? Why tell me this now if keeping this from me was working perfectly fine before?" He doesn't expect the question – thought he would have to thicken his skin for an onslaught of anger, but not this.

"I-. Because you deserve to know Kate. You told me your secret and now I've told you mine." And with that, his final card has been drawn – he has nothing else and the rest is up to her.

"I'm angry Castle – at the fact that you kept _this_ from me for a whole year, because it's my mother's murder Castle and you know how important it is to me." She takes a step towards him then, her eyes firmly looking into his. "But thank you."

"What?" He's certain his voice has just gone up an octave but he could care less. "Thank me for what?"

"For keeping me safe, even though you knew how angry I would be about it. But if this deal is going to work Castle, if you want me to stop investigating, then you do too. If this target is off my back then this target is off yours, but only if you stop."

"Kate – the deal was that you were to stop, not me. I can still help you get justice for your mother."

"No Castle, you still have a mother, a daughter, a – a girlfriend and a team at the precinct who need you to stop. This is as dangerous for you as it is for me, so this investigation ends here." She's standing tall now, firm on what she has said and he knows that there's no disagreeing with her on this, but he catches something in her words.

"A girlfriend?" She tilts her head, a questioning look in her eyes before answering.

"Well yeah, I mean I figured Jacinda was – the two of you were you know, and that's okay, but the point is-" She knows she's rambling, but she really isn't in the mood to discuss his love life and the fact that she's not in it, so she tries to steer it back to what they were actually talking about, but he isn't letting it go so easily.

"Okay? It's really okay that I'm with someone else? Because you could've just told me that from the start Beckett, not telling me to wait for a goddamn wall I wasn't never going to get past anyway." His knuckles have gone white, his hands clenching the edge of the desk in anger or hurt - he isn't sure which.

"What on earth are you talking about Castle? I thought we talked about this at the Precinct already Castle, if you're happy then that's great, you don't need to think about that wall anymore."

"So just like that – you're going to tell me that after four years of whatever it is between us, you're okay with me being with someone else?" His words are heavy with a hurt that simmers through his teeth. There was a tiny hope in him that he was wrong – that his mother and daughter had been right about her wanting to be happy with him instead of with someone else. And so he's livid –at her and at himself. Angry that his assumptions from the moment he had found out she'd lied had been right. Except he wasn't and her voice cuts through his mind, quick and sharp.

"Okay? You think I'm 'okay' with you parading someone else in front of my face after I've spent _a whole goddamn year_ in therapy trying to be a better person, to be ready for this – for us?"

"What the hell are you talking about Beckett – you never wanted us." She doesn't think she's felt such disbelief in her life – because this, this _definitely _beats finding out he lied about her mother's case.

"I never – I never wanted us?" Her voice is starting to get louder as she slowly steps towards him. "Of course I wanted there to be an 'us' Castle, I was just _too fucked up_ at the time to give you what you deserved and that's _why _I went to therapy Castle. As selfish as it was Castle, I needed to fix myself before I could start building _something _with you."

And he stands there, his mouth agape and his eyes watching hers flicker with a fire that's gotten him utterly terrified and beyond confused, but she closes her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose before turning around. As she stands there, in his office, she can feel herself breaking and suffocating from the reality of everything that has crumpled around her. So she walks towards the door, and places her hand on the door knob before turning back to him one last time and speaks with a softer voice.

"I made you wait too long Castle and you've left me by myself and I deserve that, I really do. But all I've ever wanted was you."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you once again for sticking with me through this story, I'll hopefully have the next chapter up sometime soon. (Also, a disclaimer I realise I should have put in much earlier in this story: I do not own the characters or the show - that belongs to AWM &amp; the writing team of Castle.) Hope you all have a great week!**

**G.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It's the sound of the door knob clicking open and the sound of her heels that has him shaken from his stupefied state. He's determined now, because what she just revealed – what she's just confessed, he isn't letting her run, not again.

"No – wait, Kate. Don't go." He's caught her by the wrist, a little more forceful than he'd like, but at least he has her – for the moment at least.

"Castle, I-" She needs to leave – now. She can't be near him any longer, not while he's looking at her like she's poured oil on his heart and set it alight, because she _knows_ how it hurts – she feels the burn too.

"No. No running, not again." Everything about him is rigid – his words made of steel and she exhales a shaky breath and closes her eyes.

"I'm not ru– I just. I didn't think you wanted me to stay, or at all." He slides his hand from her wrist then, letting his palm encase hers before drawing her back past the threshold of his office. She's not looking at him, just down at the floor – anywhere but _at_ him.

"Stay Kate." She lifts her face to him then, her eyes glossed over just a single tear breaking away and slowly rolling down her cheek. "We need to start over. This conversation, it – we need to talk about this."

"What's there to talk about Castle? You're done with me, you've-" She's not finishing the sentence, because as much as she told herself that she could do this, she doesn't really think that she can be with him without actually getting to _be_ with him. But he takes a step towards her and rests his hands on her shoulders, pulling her close.

"No – I'm not done with you Kate, I was never done with you. I wanted to be, but I can't."

"But – Jacinda. She was what you needed right? Fun and uncomplicated?" They're the words that have haunted her over the last week because she _knows_ that she's far from uncomplicated and after getting shot? She definitely hasn't been fun.

"Kate, she – Jacinda isn't my girlfriend, never really was. She's was a distraction, a way to take my mind off you because I thought – I thought you didn't feel the same and I just needed to escape. When I met her, she was so cheerful and good company and what I thought I needed. She was my way out but all that did was lead me straight back to what I really need – to you."

The shortest of cries breaks out from her lips, and she's not sure why, because those words make her want to rejoice, but there is too much in her head – and it's suffocating her. She can't breathe and she can't think. So she moves away from his grasp and towards his desk, placing two arms on the cold wood before squeezing her eyes shut and exhales. She's not panicking, no – but with the rollercoaster of emotions she's been through and the torrent of meaning behind his words, everything just needs to stop.

As he watches her, he can't help but think that she's not getting it – because whatever words she's spoken today has made her retreat, a resignation in her eyes that seem so very hard to conquer, but he needs to. He needs her to understand – they both need to understand whatever it is the other wants, because he's so tired of not knowing _anything_.

"So what happens now?" She speaks, breaking the short silence they've both had to gather their thoughts.

"Now we talk. We start again, from the beginning. Okay?"

"Okay." It's a short reply, but his body loosens up just a small notch then, because it means they're getting somewhere, even if they're just getting started. And so he starts.

"I heard you Beckett – I was in the observation room watching you interrogate that teenage boy during the bombing case. You said that you'd remembered every second of your shooting and I just – you lied to me for a year and I didn't know what to do with that knowledge. All I could do was think that you kept it from me because you were just saving face – for me." She straightens herself up from the desk, turning to lean herself against the edge as she folds her arms and watches him from the other side of the room.

"Wait what? You – you knew that I lied to you? Why didn't you say anything when you found out?"

"Why didn't you say anything at all?" He shoots the words back too quickly for him to realise it, so he clears his throat to start again. "Sorry you've uhh, you've already answered that- but it was a whole ten months Beckett, what was I supposed to do? Call you out on it and talk about it as if it's what we always do?"

She sighs then, because he's right. They _never _talk – not about the important stuff anyway. It's always laced in subtext and an expectation that the other knows what they're really saying underneath everything they're not saying.

"No Castle, you're right, but I guess this is a start right? We're talking now, so… complete honesty, from both of us? I mean real honesty – even if the words hurt, we say them?"

"Yeah – yes. We both come out of this conversation knowing exactly what we want and what it means." He nods in agreement before a silence takes them over. They're going for honesty, but they're both terrified – because they both know that when this conversation ends, it only goes one of two ways: them together – in everything, or not at all.

"Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you sleep with her?"

"No, I didn't – I couldn't." He shakes his head, willing himself to just get the words out. "I thought about it – thought that maybe I could just get it all out of my system and just move on but every time I got anywhere close to sleeping with her, I couldn't do it. I just felt _so _wrong and I was so angry at you for that. For ruining me for anyone else, because there was _no one else_."

"So do you still want this? Do you still want… me?" She thinks the question sounds absurd, but she bites her lip as she waits for his answer.

He graces her with a smile then, before taking a step closer towards her.

"Yeah Kate. In spite of everything, the lies and the hurt, I still want this – you, us." She lets out a breath she's only just realised she'd been holding. "But do you Kate? I know you said that at some point during the last few months you did, but given the last couple of weeks; when you said you were happy for me and how I behaved -" His words are stopped as he feels her move towards him to take his hand, threading her fingers through his before giving his hand a squeeze.

"God Castle, of course I do. I never stopped." He closes his eyes then, everything within him absolutely elated that they've still got a chance. He opens his eyes again to look at her as she continues. "I just thought that if you weren't waiting for me, then I still wanted you in my life, Castle. As a friend or a partner or something – just anything, as long as you were there. I thought it's what you deserved, so I had to make do with being happy for you instead of being happy with you."

"Oh, Kate." He's astounded by the woman in front of him – because he sees it now, how selfless she was being, even if she was being selfish all at the same time, for him. She shrugs at him then, ducking her head and tucking a loose strand of her behind her ear with her free hand. "I'm sorry you ever doubted that – that I made you feel like you weren't worth waiting for, because you _are _Kate, you are."

"Rick?" She's whispering now, their bodies close as they release each other's hands and Castle's left arm comes to wrap around her waist as she brings hers her right arm to rest on his forearm.

"Yeah?"

"You never said those words again – not other than when I had a bullet in my chest, so can you? Can you say them again?" He looks into her hazel eyes, hope pouring out of the hints of gold speckled across them and he can't believe he never told her again, at least not aloud. He takes the moment to cup her face with his right hand, thumb stroking her bottom lip before speaking.

"I love you Katherine Beckett. Always have, always will." She grins then, teeth showing as the skin around her eyes crinkle with joy, watching as he smiles back. "Now, if we've cleared everything up, are we done talking?"

She shakes her head then, his mouth opening a little in surprise.

"No, not yet. We haven't cleared everything up."

"No?"

"There's something else that needs clarification."

"W-What is it?" He won't deny that he's not panicking a little – or a lot, his mind racing through the whole conversation they've just had, double checking that he didn't say something stupid and that nothing else needs to be said.

"I love you too, Richard Castle. Always have, always will." He huffs out the biggest breath of relief he's ever had, his face shining with a joy that reflects hers. He leans in slowly, breathes her in as he gets closer and feels her hand come up around to his neck, fingers at the nape of his hair. He stops just before his lips touches hers.

"Is that it? Because I'd really like to kiss you now." She lets out a laugh then, and he feels her nod in his palm, and it's all he needs before he presses his smile to hers. As their lips meet, he finds that she's the softest thing he's ever felt, and his arm is tightening around her, flushing her body completely against his. His hair is like silk on her fingertips as she plays with the strands at the end of his hair, nipping at his bottom lip as she lets him surround her – his earthy smell and the strength of his broad arms.

And as she runs her tongue across his lip, she feels her feet being lifted off the ground as he spins her around and their mouths break apart. The sound of Castle's laughter fills the room, quickly catching on to Beckett as she lets herself be held in the air, still chuckling as he slowly lets her down to the ground once more, and then presses one, two, three short kisses to her lips and rests his forehead against hers.

She moves her head then, fitting herself in the crook of his neck and placing a kiss to this throat as their arms tighten around each other and they stand and bask in the euphoric shift of their relationship.

"Kate?"

"Mmmm?"

"We're really doing this? Us?" She lifts her head to look at him then, his eyes an impossible shade of blue as clear as the ocean and she can't help but give him another soft kiss on the lips.

"Yeah Rick," she runs her fingers through the hair on the side of his head, finding that it's something she's definitely going to keep doing every chance she gets, "we're really doing this – I'm diving in with you."

"Good – because I love you Kate, and I'm all in."

_fin._

* * *

**A/N: I hope this was worth the (longer-than-expected-because-life-gets-in-the-way-and-I'm-so-sorry-about-that) wait. I'd always planned for the story to be short in terms of chapters, so to each and every one of you who read this story, thank you.**


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